A Day with Sarah
by MySoapBox
Summary: Sarah takes a day off and invites Chuck along. Oneshot. A day in the life - fluff. Can’t Sarah and Chuck just be happy once in awhile?


**A Day with Sarah**

**By MySoapBox**

**Summary: Sarah takes a day off and invites Chuck along. Oneshot. Pointless fluff. Can't Sarah and Chuck just be happy once in awhile?**

_I finished writing a particularly angsty and emotionally draining chapter of my story **Revelations** this weekend so I wanted to take a break and write something where our two favorite people were actually happy. Nothing happens in the story really but I hope you like it._

* * *

When Chuck was awakened by his phone ringing, he groaned, rolled over, and glanced at his alarm clock; it was 6:30. He looked at his phone; it was Sarah. He wouldn't have answered it for anyone else.

"Sarah?" he said groggily.

"Hey, Chuck. You have the day off, right?"

"Yeah"

"Do you want to spend it with me?"

That woke Chuck up a little. "Yeah," he said, "what are we doing?"

"I'm not going to tell you. Let's just say it's my day off too and I'm going to spend it doing whatever I want."

"That sounds interesting. Okay, what do I wear?"

"Something comfortable. I'll be by in 15 minutes."

"15 minutes?"

"You heard me. Eat light."

The line clicked and Chuck pulled the phone back from his ear. "Eat light?"

15 minutes later, Chuck was showered, dressed and sitting on the curb with a Danish in his hand. He had opted for the ever-safe, jeans and t-shirt, not knowing what the day would bring.

He could hear Sarah before he saw her: first the purr of the engine and then music pouring out of her open windows. He opened the car door and sat in the passenger seat. He noticed that Sarah was wearing khaki capris and a v-neck t-shirt. Good, so he guessed right on the dress.

She looked over him and growled playfully, "No food in the Porsche."

"Hey, you're the one that called me at this ungodly hour and said be ready in 15 minutes, you get what you get."

She gave him an evil look and then put the car in gear. "If you get that crap on my seats, you'll be licking it off," she threatened.

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck answered.

Sarah reached down and turned on the radio and pulled out of the parking lot. It wasn't until they reached the Golden State Highway that Chuck reached up and turned the radio volume down. Sarah glanced over to him.

"So are you going to tell me where we are going now?"

"No."

"No? Is that all I get."

"Yes," she said laughing and turned up the music again.

It was time to change tactics; he decided to use the glair. For the next few minutes he stared at Sarah. At first she seemed not to notice, but after awhile, he could tell she was uncomfortable. Finally, he had won.

"Okay, okay," she said, turning down the music. "I'll tell you. This is my day off. I don't get one very often so I decided to spend the day doing things I loved and I needed a friend to go with me, so I invited you. Does that answer your question?"

"So I'm just some friend to hang out with while you go on your little adventures?" Chuck asked.

"We are friends aren't we?" She sounded a little defensive. "Why shouldn't we spend a fun day together?"

"I guess." Chuck felt less than excited about being put in the "friend" category.

Sarah glanced over at him. "Look, I know because of my job there are a lot of things that I can't tell you about myself. But that doesn't mean I can't share some things with you. Is it okay if I want that?"

Sarah wanted to share things with him; the thought cheered him considerably.

"You're right," he said. "I'm sorry; it will be fun hanging out with you."

Sarah reached over and patted him on the leg. He covered her hand with his but she pulled her hand away to downshift as they ran into a bubble of traffic.

"Soooo, where are we going anyway?"

"Leona Valley."

"What's in Leona Valley?"

"You'll see," she answered and turned up the radio once again.

***

As they drove through the rich browns and deep greens of Leona Valley, Chuck was amazed that somewhere like this existed only a little over an hour away from his home in smoggy Burbank. They drove past orchard after orchard of trees heavy with cherries and apricots until Sarah turned off onto a dirt road and then finally pulled up to a little fruit stand with a big hand panted sign that read: "Strawberries, U-Pick."

"We're picking strawberries?" Chuck asked in disbelief.

"My day; my choice," Sarah said simply and exited the car.

After buying two half gallon baskets, one for her and one for Chuck, they walked together out to the field. Chuck looked down at the rows and rows of raised beds, toped with green leafy plants.

"Sarah," he said, "I don't see any strawberries."

Sarah smiled. "They're there; you just have to know where to look." She reached down and pulled back the leaves. Nestled in the tangle of stems and shoots were the biggest red strawberries Chuck had ever seen. "Sometimes the best things in life aren't on the surface. You have to dig a little - but it's usually worth it." She picked up her basket and started picking. Chuck stepped over the row and started picking opposite her.

They had made it a few yards down the row when Chuck realized that his bucket was still mostly empty. He was eating more then he was picking. He couldn't help himself; the berries were so sweet and warm. He looked up to see Sarah who was a little ahead of him, swiping her chin with her hand.

She saw him looking at her and laughed. "I told you to eat light."

By the time they were back to the car, their baskets were brimming and Chuck's stomach ached. They poured their berries into a cooler that Sarah had stowed in the back and headed back out on the dirt road.

Once on the pavement, Sarah pulled over and took down the top. The combination of wind and radio made conversation much more difficult so Chuck settled back, as comfortably as he could in the small car, to enjoy the ride.

***

An hour later they turned off the 405 into Santa Monica. Sarah pulled up in front of a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that would be easily missed if you weren't looking for it.

"Wait in the car," she instructed.

"What? I don't get to go in?" Chuck protested. "Is it dangerous in there or something? Some secret Fulcrum burger place?"

"No, I just don't have quarters for the meter. Be back in five," she said and she walked away.

Ten minutes later Sarah returned with a paper bag and a couple of drinks. She handed the lot to Chuck.

"What's for lunch?" he asked.

Sarah just smiled and started the car.

"Ah, another clue to the mystery that is Sarah Walker. Let me guess, it's something that is smothered in olives, the fact that you don't like olives is just a cover."

Sarah nudged him in the arm. "Whatever, just don't let the drinks spill."

They parked on a side street and walked out to the beach. Sarah led the way down a boardwalk to a small fishing dock, where they found an empty bench. There were several fishermen and a few tourists milling around, but it was a relatively quiet day, and Chuck enjoyed the smell of salt and sound of surf.

Sarah pulled two sandwiches out of the bag and handed one to Chuck. He opened the wrapper.

"A steak sandwich?" he said, puzzled.

"A Philly cheesesteak," Sarah corrected, "or, as close as you can get in LA."

Chuck took a bite into the roll stuffed with stake, cheese and onions. It was delicious.

"These are made with provolone," Sarah explained, "you can't get whiz here – this is southern California after all."

Chuck nodded like he knew what she was talking about. "So," he said between mouthfuls, "how did you become such a cheesesteak expert?"

"My father," she answered simply, looking down the long beach.

"So, did you and your dad spend much time in Philadelphia?" Chuck ventured.

A warning glance told him that he would be getting no more information about her father today.

They finished up and tossed their unfinished portions to the seagulls that had been hounding them, distracting the birds long enough to make their escape.

***

"Where to next?" Chuck asked as they got back into the car.

"You'll see," Sarah answered cryptically.

Another hour on the 10 and Chuck was wishing he had a hat. He was certain that his hair would be an afro when this day was done. Sarah, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, the more windswept she got, the more beautiful and happy she became. At least he had a little time to digest before their next activity, whatever it may be.

Chuck was surprised when they pulled up to the Auto Club Speedway. He was even more surprised when Sarah drove up and through the tunnel gate into infield parking. There were obviously no races today because the stands were empty, but there were still people around and a few cars on the track. They parked and Sarah led Chuck up to one of the red roofed garages.

They walked up to a white car that was up on lifts with "Hooters" written on the sides in big letters. Sarah taped on the hood and a mechanic slid out from under. He was an older man, with a trim white beard and squinty eyes.

As soon as he saw her, he grinned. "Sarah, love, I heard you were coming in today!" He got up and kissed Sarah's cheeks.

She took his hand, ignoring the grease. "Richard! So good to see you again. How've you been?"

"Can't complain, can't complain," he said wiping his wrench off on a towel.

"Richard, this is my boyfriend, Chuck," Sarah said, gesturing Chuck to come forward.

"Boyfriend 'eh, you must be quite a guy, to have tamed our Sarah here," he said pounding Chuck on the back. Chuck laughed nervously.

"Now Richard," Sarah teased, "who said I've been tamed?"

"Oh, nobody, nobody," he said raising his hands in surrender.

"So have you got her ready for us?" Sarah asked.

"Yep, all gassed up and ready to go." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Your gear is in the back."

Sarah took Chuck by the hand and led him into the garage. On a back table they found racing suits, gloves and helmets.

"We're going to be driving race cars?" Chuck asked nervously.

"No, I'M going to be driving a race car. You're going to be riding," Sarah clarified.

Somehow that didn't make Chuck feel any better; he was regretting the cheesesteak. After suiting up, Chuck and Sarah checked in again with Richard, who had them both sign release forms before he handed Sarah the key.

"She's in slot number six," he said. "You've got the track until three. Have fun you two."

Sarah headed off across the parking lot and Chuck had to jog a few steps to catch up.

"Did you read that form we just signed? I feel like I just signed away our firstborn."

"OUR firstborn?" Sarah asked, raising her eyebrows.

Chuck felt the blood rush from his face up into his hairline. "Did I say that?"

Sarah only laughed and quickened her pace

They reached the race queue and Chuck saw their car, a yellow and black NASCAR with "Dewalt" written across the back.

"We're going to race in this?" Chuck asked incredulously.

"Well, technically we aren't racing - just driving around the track - but, yeah."

Sarah must have felt protective of him because she insisted on fastening Chuck's helmet, and strapping him into his five point harness. It was like some kind of torture to have her so close to him, feeling her breath on his neck and feeling her brush agents his chest as she yanked all the belts tight. If she noticed anything, she didn't let on.

Sarah sat and strapped herself into her seat. The instrument panel was stainless steel, no-frill gauges and switches, and it felt eerie to Chuck to have roll bars all around them and across the windshield.

"Are you ready?" Sarah asked, he voice muffled slightly by the helmet.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Chuck asked anxiously.

"Yeah, I drove the CIA car in the academy." She looked over the instrument panel. "You know, every car that says Cheerios on it, is really CIA."

"Really?"

She turned to him. "No, not really."

Sarah started the engine and the car roared to life like a purring, living animal.

Chuck thought it would be like the NASCAR video games he had played, but he was wrong. The vibrations of the car, mixed with the forces of the shifts and turns, added to the overhanging fence whizzing by, compounded by the heat and smell of exhaust, all combined to create quite an overwhelming experience. Chuck tried to enjoy it, but found himself mostly concentrating on keeping down his lunch rather than the exhilaration of racing around the track.

Sarah, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of her life. She took the turns tight, and she really opened up on the straightaway. When the car hit 100, he could have sworn he heard her giggle. When the car hit 150 Chuck heard Sarah whoop in glee. He couldn't see her face, but he had never heard her so happy.

When their finial lap was finished and they had pulled off the track, Sarah leapt out of the car and swept off her helmet, golden hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked refreshed and alive and Chuck wondered how she managed to look so breathtaking, as he stood on his own wobbly legs. Even on solid earth he could still fell the vibrations of the car coursing through his body.

Sarah seemed to appraise him with her eyes. He was sure he saw her smirk. "Why don't you give me your suit and go wait in the car. I'll turn in our stuff." Chuck pulled off his racing helmet and stepped out of his suit. He moved his hand through his damp, plastered hair. This was one time he was more than happy to wait in the car.

"Where to next?" Chuck asked as they were back on the freeway. "And don't tell me Sumo Wrestling and all-you-can-eat sushi because I don't think I could take that," he moaned.

"Don't worry," Sarah reached over and put her hand on his leg. "I'm taking you home. You can take a little nap before dinner."

Chuck put his hand over hers and she didn't move it away until she had to downshift, which since they were on the freeway, wasn't for some time.

***

Chuck was feeling decidedly better at 6:00 pm when Sarah knocked on his door. He was wearing slacks, a blue button down and a tie. She was wearing a black flare skirt and striking red top, with beading across the neckline.

She must have caught the path of his eyes because she said, "I know you don't like red but it's my day to chose and I love this blouse."

"What are you talking about?" Chuck asked confused. "I love…I mean…you look great in red."

Sarah furrowed her eyebrows. "But you said you didn't like me in red."

Chuck was confused. "I did?"

Sarah wacked him in the arm with her handbag. "I've been avoiding wearing red for six months, and all for nothing!"

Chuck raised his hands. "Whatever I did, or said, I profusely apologize and accept full responsibility. I'm sure it was my fault, one hundred percent."

"You bet it was," she said, looking at him angrily.

Although Chuck was still totally baffled, he decided to pull out the big guns to make it better. He turned is face down a little bit, cocked his head slightly, and put on the best puppy dog eye he could muster. "I'm sorry Sarah, you look beautiful." He leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss.

Whatever magic he had, it worked; he could see her features soften.

"You're forgiven," she said, smiling sweetly.

They had a good dinner at Casa Del Mar. Sarah insisted they had the best swordfish in LA. Chuck had to take her word for it, not being a fish eating man himself, but the chicken was pretty good so he couldn't complain. Dinner finished, they were enjoying desert: one brownie sundae, two spoons.

"So where to next?" Chuck asked. "Dancing at the hottest club in town or mud wrestling at some cowboy bar?"

Sarah laughed. "Chuck, don't you know me at all? Mud wrestling? Honestly!"

A picture came unbidden into Chuck's mind of just that, but he quickly pushed it away. "Dancing it is then."

"Not so fast," she said. "As a matter of fact we are going to a show." Sarah pulled two tickets out of her purse and put them down on the table.

Chuck couldn't believe his eyes. "_Wicked_? You have tickets to see _Wicked_?"

Sarah looked hurt. "What's wrong with that?"

"I just…nothing, nothing at all is wrong with that. I just didn't expect it. That's all." He tried to recover. "But it's nice…no it'll be fun. I'm excited," he finished lamely.

Sarah reached out for the tickets. "If you don't want to go…"

He put his hand on hers. "No, Sarah," he said looking into her eyes. "I want to go."

"Okay," she said, still pouting a little, but then when she looked back into his face a small smile turned her lips.

While Chuck actually enjoyed _Wicked_ - in parts - he really enjoyed being at _Wicked _with Sarah. He loved seeing her eyes light up as the curtain lifted and he tried not to show his utter amazement when he saw Sarah mouthing some of the words to the songs. During a sad number in the first act, Chuck bravely decided to reach out and take her hand. To his immense pleasure and relief she didn't pull away, if anything she leaned more into him. He took her hand again after intermission and in the second act she rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand during intense parts. But of the whole evening, the whole day actually, what shocked him the most was when he saw a single tear roll down her face during the song, "For Good," and he wondered if she saw their own relationship mirrored in the words. When the curtain fell, Sarah was one of the first to join in the standing ovation, and Chuck stood too because - hey, he had had a really good day.

Once in the car Sarah was the one to reach for his hand. Only removing it to shift and then replacing it. It felt warm and right.

All too soon they were idling in front of Chuck's apartment.

"Thanks for coming with me Chuck. I had fun," she said shyly.

"Me too," he answered, but she didn't let go of his hand and he didn't move to get out of the car.

"Sarah," he said, still looking forward. "How much of today was the real you?"

She squeezed his hand. "All of it - it was all real, Chuck."

He turned to her. "And tomorrow?"

Sarah sighed. "Tomorrow we go back to work," she answered.

He nodded his head, and moved his hand up to the door handle. But before saying goodnight he had one more question. "Sarah, how do you do it?"

She glanced upwards for a moment, and then over to him. "In our line of work you have to enjoy the moments that you can. It's days like today that get you through all the other days."

Chuck sighed, nodded once in acknowledgment, exited the car and started to walk away.

"Chuck!" she called after him.

He turned around and leaned against the open passenger window. "Yeah?"

"Thank you - for coming with me today. It's been a long time since I've had…someone to share with," she said sincerely.

He smiled at her, his warmest smile. "You're welcome, Sarah."


End file.
